“I'll hold it for you, of course. You have first rights on it.”
“How long will the reference check take?”
“No more than a few days. The banks are a little slow with credit checks these days.”
“I'll tell you what, why don't you call my banker?” He gave her the name of the head of private banking at BofA. “Maybe he can move things along a little faster.” Jimmy was always discreet, but he also knew that once she called him, things would move like greased lightning. His credit was not an issue, and had never been.
“I'll be happy to do that, Mr. O'Connor. Is there a number where I can reach you today?”
He gave her his office number, and told her to leave a message on his voice mail if he was out, and he'd call her back as soon as he got it. “I'll be in all morning.”
He had a mountain of paperwork on his desk. And at ten o'clock that morning, she called him.
The credit check had gone exactly as he'd expected. She called the head of private banking, as a matter of routine, and the moment she said Jimmy's name, she was told that without question, there was no problem. His credit was excellent, and they were not able to disclose his balances, but they were of an amount as to put him in the upper echelons of their clients was all they could say.
“Is he buying a house?” the banker asked with interest. He hoped he was, although he didn't say it. After Jimmy's recent tragedy, he would have seen it as a hopeful sign, and he could certainly afford it. If he'd wanted to, he could have bought The Cottage. But he didn't mention that to the realtor.
“No, he's renting a gatehouse. It's quite expensive,” she said, just trying to reconfirm what he'd told her, and to make sure there was no misunderstanding. “Ten thousand a month, and we'll need first and last months' rent, and a twenty-five-thousand-dollar security deposit.” Once again, he assured her there was no problem. It aroused her curiosity and in a rare burst of indiscretion, she asked him a question. “Who is he?”
“Exactly who he says he is. James Thomas O'Connor. He's one of our most solid clients.” It was all he would tell her, and she was more than a little intrigued.
“I was a little concerned because, as a social worker, of course…it's a little unusual to pay such a high rent.”
“It's a shame there aren't more people like him. Is there anything else I can tell you?”
“Would you mind faxing me a letter?”
“Not at all. Do you need us to issue a check on his behalf, or is he going to do it himself?”
“I'll ask him,” she said, as she realized that she had just rented Cooper Winslow's gatehouse. She called Jimmy back, told him the good news, and told him he could have the gatehouse and the keys as soon as he wanted. He promised to drop a check off to her at lunchtime, and told her he wouldn't be moving in for another few weeks, until he vacated his current apartment. He wanted to hang on to the last of Maggie for as long as he could, but he was suddenly excited about the gatehouse. And he knew that wherever he went, he would take her with him.
“I hope you'll be very happy there, Mr. O'Connor. It's a gem of a house. And I'm sure you'll enjoy meeting Mr. Winslow”
As he hung up, he laughed thinking of what Maggie would have said about having a movie star as their landlord. But for once, he was going to indulge in doing something a little crazy. And somehow, in his heart of hearts, he had the feeling that Maggie would not only have approved, she would have loved it for him.
Chapter 5
Mark had had another nightmarish night, nearly without sleep, when he arrived at his office the next morning. And almost moments after he got there, his phone rang. It was Abe Braunstein.
“I'm so damn sorry about what you told me yesterday,” Abe said sympathetically. He had been thinking about him the night before, and then suddenly wondered if he was looking for an apartment. He couldn't stay in a hotel forever. “I had a crazy idea last night. I don't know if you're looking for a place to live, or what your needs are, but there's a very unusual place that just came on the market. One of my clients is renting out his guest wing, Cooper Winslow. He's gotten himself in a hell of a bind, of course that's confidential. He's got a fantastic estate in Bel Air, and quite a house. He's renting out his gatehouse, and his guest wing. They started showing both yesterday, and I don't think they're rented yet. I just thought I'd mention it, because it might be a terrific place to live, kind of like being in a country club. Maybe you'd like to see it.”
“I haven't given it much thought,” Mark said honestly. He really wasn't ready, although living on Cooper Winslow's Bel Air estate had a certain ring to it, and it might be a great environment for his kids when they came out to visit.
“If you want, I'll pick you up at lunchtime and drive you out to see it. If nothing else, it's worth a look as a tourist. It's quite a place. Tennis courts, swimming pool, fourteen acres of garden in the middle of the city.”
“I'd love to see it.” He didn't want to be rude to Abe, but he wasn't in the mood to look for apartments, even on Cooper Winslow's estate, but he thought maybe he should, just in case it would be good for the kids.
“I'll pick you up at twelve-thirty. I'll call the realtor and have her meet us out there. It's pricey, but I think you can afford it.” He smiled, knowing that Mark was one of the firm's highest-earning partners. Tax law was not exciting, but it had been profitable for him, although nothing about Mark was ostentatious. He drove a Mercedes, but other than that, he was down to earth, and very unassuming, and always had been.
For the rest of the morning, Mark forgot about it. He thought it was a long shot that he would like the guest wing at The Cottage. He was going to see it mostly out of courtesy to Abe, he had nothing else to do at lunch-time. Now that he hardly ever ate, he had more time on his hands. His clothes were hanging off him.
Abe arrived at the office on schedule, and told Mark that the realtor was meeting them at The Cottage in fifteen minutes. And for the entire drive they talked about a new tax law that seemed to have some loopholes in it that interested both of them, so much so that Mark looked up in surprise when they got to the main gate. The Cottage had a very imposing entrance. Abe knew the code, and let himself in, and they drove along the winding drive through trees, and endless manicured gardens, and Mark laughed out loud when he saw the house. He couldn't even imagine living in a house like that, it looked like a palace to him.
“My God, does he actually live there?” There were marble pillars and marble steps, and an enormous fountain that reminded him of the Place de la Concorde in Paris.
“It was built for Vera Harper. Winslow's had it for over forty years. It costs him an absolute fortune to run.”
“I can imagine. How much staff does he have?”
“At the moment, close to twenty. In two weeks, one in the house, and three gardeners. He has eight at the moment. He calls it my scorched-earth policy, and he's not too happy about it. I'm forcing him to sell the cars too, if you need a Rolls or a Bentley He's an interesting guy, but about as spoiled as they come. I hate to admit it, but the place suits him. We have kind of an armed truce between us.” Abe was everything that Coop wasn't, practical, down to earth, frugal, he didn't have an ounce of elegance or style, but he had more compassion than Coop suspected, which was why he was bringing Mark out to see the house. He felt sorry for him, and wanted to help him. He'd never seen the guest wing himself, but Liz had told him it was terrific, and she was right.
Mark whistled as the realtor let him in. He looked up in amazement at the high ceilings, and out the French windows with pleasure. The gardens were absolutely beautiful. He felt as though he were in an old French chateau, and the furniture was very handsome too. The kitchen was a little antiquated, but he didn't really care, and as the realtor pointed out, it was warm and cozy. And he was amused by the grandeur of the master bedroom. Blue satin was not what he would have chosen for his bedroom, but it was certainly glamorous, and for a year, while he figured out what he was doing with his life, this wo
uld be an easy solution. And the grounds were wonderfully safe and protected for his children. It had a lot to recommend it. He had been thinking lately about moving back to New York to be near his kids, but he didn't want to encroach on Janet, and he had a lot of clients in LA who counted on him. The one thing Mark didn't want to do was make a hasty decision. And having a place to live was one way not to. He would have a home again, even if it wasn't his own. And it was a lot less depressing than living in a hotel, lying awake at night, listening to people flush toilets and slam doors.
“This is quite something.” He smiled at Abe, and felt like an innocent as he looked around. It never even dawned on him that people lived this way. His own house had been comfortable and well decorated, but the guest wing looked like a movie set. If nothing else, it would be amusing, and fun to live there. And he had a feeling that his kids would love it when they came to visit, particularly the tennis courts and the pool. “I'm glad you brought me out here.” He smiled gratefully at Abe.
“I thought of it last night, and I figured it was worth a look. You can't live in a hotel forever.” He had given all his furniture to Janet, so the fact that it was furnished, and so handsomely, was a no-brainer for him. In a lot of ways, it was perfect for Mark.
“How much is it?” Mark asked the realtor.
“Ten thousand a month,” she said, without batting an eye. “But there's nothing else like it. A lot of people would pay ten times that just to be here. The Cottage is a unique property, and so is the guest wing. I just rented the gatehouse to a very nice young man this morning.”
“Really?” Abe commented with interest. “Anyone we've ever heard of?” He was used to celebrities and the movie stars who were his clients and Coop's friends.
“Actually, no, I don't think so. He's a social worker,” she said primly, and Abe looked surprised.
“Can he afford it?” As Coop's accountant, he had a vested interest in asking her those questions. They didn't want to get someone in who couldn't pay the rent.
“Apparently. The head of private banking at BofA says he's one of their most solid clients. He sent me a fax to that effect about ten minutes after I spoke to him, and the tenant dropped off a check for first, last, and security, as I was walking out of the office to come here. I'm dropping the lease off to him tonight. He lives in Venice Beach.”
“Interesting,” Abe commented, and then turned his attention back to Mark, who was investigating the closets. There were more than he needed. But he particularly liked the two bedrooms for the children, and he thought his kids would love the place. It was elegant and glamorous, but still comfortable, and it was all done in beautiful taste.
Mark was pondering the rent as he looked around, but he knew he could afford it. He just didn't know if he wanted to spend that much on rent. If he did, it would be the first outrageous thing he'd done for himself in an entire lifetime, but maybe it was time for him to do something outrageous. Janet had. She had walked right out the door into the arms of another man. All he was doing was renting an expensive apartment for a year, but one that he would really enjoy living in. He might even start sleeping decently again, on the peaceful grounds. He could swim laps in the pool when he came home from the office, or play tennis, if he could find a partner. He couldn't imagine inviting Cooper Winslow to play with him. “Is he ever around?” he asked the realtor with interest.
“Apparently he travels a great deal, which is why he wants tenants, so there are people living full-time on the property, and not just servants.” It was the party line, and Abe recognized instantly that it was probably what Liz had told her. She was always so diplomatic, and so protective of Coop's reputation. Abe didn't want to tell the realtor that there would no longer be servants living there in two weeks.
“That makes sense,” Mark nodded. “It's good security for him.” But he also knew what Abe had told him in confidence about Coop's financial situation. They shared a lot of information like that about their clients.
“Are you married, Mr. Friedman?” the realtor asked him politely. She wanted to make sure that he didn't have ten children, but that looked unlikely. And the fact that Coop's own accountant had brought him there meant that he didn't need any intense scrutiny in the screening process, which was simpler for all concerned.
“I…uh…no…I'm getting divorced.” It nearly choked him to say it.
“Do your children live with you?”
“No, they live in New York.” It broke his heart to say that too. “I'm going to be going back to see them as often as possible. They can only come out here during their vacations. And you know how kids are, they want to stay close to their friends. I'll be lucky if they come out once a year,” he said sadly. But the realtor was relieved, after Liz's warning that Coop wasn't anxious for tenants with children. He was a perfect candidate, a single man, with children who weren't even in the same city, and would hardly ever come to visit. You couldn't ask for better. And he was obviously solvent, if Abe had brought him. And then, as he walked back into the living room, he blurted out, “I'll take it.” Even Abe looked startled, but Mark was beaming, and the realtor was delighted. In the two first days on the market, she had rented both of Coop's properties, and at a very decent price. She thought ten thousand was fair for each of them, and Liz had said Coop would be satisfied if she got that much for them. She hadn't wanted to push any higher. And Mark looked ecstatic. Suddenly, he couldn't wait to get out of the hotel, and move in. The realtor told him he could occupy it within a few days, as soon as the credit check was complete, they got his check, and she gave him the keys. Liz had told her she wanted to have both facilities professionally cleaned for the tenants, which she mentioned to him.
“I think I'll move in this weekend,” he said happily, as he and the realtor shook hands on the deal, and he thanked Abe profusely for bringing him to see it.
“That was a lot easier and more productive than I expected it to be, and faster.” Abe smiled happily as they drove back down the driveway. He had expected him to agonize and have a tougher time making the decision.
“It's probably the craziest thing I've ever done, but maybe I need to be a little crazy once in a while,” Mark volunteered. He was always so serious and so responsible, so measured in everything he did. He wondered now if that was why he had lost Janet to another man, who was probably more exciting. “Thanks, Abe. I love the place, and I think my kids will too. We're going to get awfully spoiled living here for a year.”
“It'll do you good for a while,” Abe said compassionately.
That night Mark called Jessica and Jason in New York, and told them about the guest wing he'd rented from Coop.
“Who's he?” Jason asked, sounding blank.
“I think he's some really old guy who was in movies when Dad was a kid,” Jessica explained.
“That's about right,” Mark said, sounding pleased. “But the main thing is it's a great house, and we have our own wing, on beautiful grounds, with a tennis court and a pool. I think it'll be fun for you two when you come out.” All three of them were on the phone at the same time.
“I miss our old house,” Jason said, sounding glum.
“I hate my school,” Jessica chimed in. “All the girls are mean, and all the boys are geeks.”
“Give it time,” Mark said diplomatically. It hadn't been his idea to end the marriage, or move the kids to New York. But he didn't want to say anything critical about their mother. He preferred to keep whatever animosity they felt toward each other between them. It seemed better for the kids. “It takes time to get used to a new school. And I'm going to see you soon.” He was flying to New York for a weekend, in February. They had reservations in Saint Bart's in March for their spring break. And he was thinking about chartering a small boat for their Caribbean holiday. He was trying to break out of his familiar mold. “How's Mom?”
“She's okay, she goes out a lot,” Jason complained, but they hadn't said a word yet about the new man. Mark was sure she hadn't introduc
ed them to him yet. She was waiting for things to settle down. They had only been there for three weeks, nearly four. It wasn't a long time, although it felt like an eternity to him.
“Why can't we keep our old house?” Jessica asked mournfully, and when he told her it had just sold, they both cried. It was yet another conversation that ended on an unhappy note. They had a lot of those. And Jessica always seemed to be looking for someone to blame, mostly him. She still hadn't figured out that her mother had wanted the divorce. And Mark didn't want to point the finger at her. He was waiting for Janet to step up to the plate and take responsibility for it herself, but so far she hadn't. She had just told them that she and Daddy hadn't been getting along, which was a lie. They'd been fine, until Adam came along. Mark wondered how she was going to sell him to the kids, maybe as someone she'd just met. It was probably going to be years before they figured it out, if they ever did, which depressed him too. His children were going to go on blaming him forever for causing the divorce. And one of his worst fears was that his kids were going to be as crazy about Adam as their mother was, and then they would forget him. He was three thousand miles away, in Los Angeles, and he couldn't see them as often as he liked. He could hardly wait for their vacation in Saint Bart's. He had chosen it because he thought it would be fun for them, and for him too.
He promised to call them the next day, as he always did. And he gave the hotel notice that night that he was moving out on the weekend. He could hardly wait. He loved his new digs. It was the first cheerful thing that had happened to him since Janet had hit him with the news. He felt like he'd been in shock for the last five weeks. And that night, he went out and ate a hamburger before he went to bed. For the first time in weeks, he was actually hungry.
He packed his clothes into two suitcases on Friday night, and on Saturday morning, he drove to the estate. He had the code to the gate and opened it, and when he let himself into the guest wing, it was immaculately clean. Everything had been vacuumed and dusted, and the furniture shone. The kitchen was spotless and there were clean sheets on his bed. And for a surprisingly long moment, it felt like coming home.
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